


The Day the Music Died

by LostInThought96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Riddikulus! Flash Comp, Angst, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Dumbledore's Armada's A Riddikulus! Flash Comp, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mirror of Erised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29307066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInThought96/pseuds/LostInThought96
Summary: Did Dumbledore really only see socks in the Mirror of Erised? I think not.Here's what he was hiding._____________________________________Major thanks to my beta! I will always appreciate the time you set aside to beta for me and help me bring these creations to life! You’re a freaking rockstar!A piece for the Dumbledore's Armada A Riddikulus Flash Comp hosted by Mimifreed and DrunkenwinkyPrompt used: Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans Reflected in the Mirror of Erised
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 25
Kudos: 26
Collections: A Riddikulus Flash Competition





	The Day the Music Died

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [RiddikulusComp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/RiddikulusComp) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans Reflected in the Mirror of Erised (thing)

“What do you see, Professor?” young Harry Potter asked the aged old Wizard standing beside him. 

Albus Dumbledore smiled softly and his blue eyes twinkled as he glanced into the Mirror. “Thick woolen socks.” 

The smile on his face didn’t meet his eyes.

Dumbledore sent the boy back up to bed, wishing sweet dreams to his young student. As Harry’s echoing footsteps dissipated in the corridor, Albus’s carefully guarded heart crumbled. Hot tears ran down his face as he slid, with his back pressed to the wall, onto the floor directly in front of the Mirror. 

Albus’s shoulders shook as he stared at the love of his life. They sat together, shoulders pressed comfortably, enjoying a small box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. 

He was exactly as Dumbledore remembered, golden blond hair, one blue eye, and one the color of ice. Gellert's face wore his struggles, his hands were always strong and sturdy. 

Bertie Bott’s… their special treat, little candies, treasured gems in Gellert’s powerful palms.

Dumbledore tore his eyes from the Mirror and put his head in his withered hands. So different from the way they looked the last time he and Gellert had shared a helping of Bertie Bott’s. 

His once short and tamed deep brown hair grew white and almost reached the middle of his back. His eyes still held Gellert’s favorite sky blue and still twinkled like a star at times, but they had lost their shine. He stood half a man without Gellert, well aware that he would never be whole again. After Gellert had been taken to Nurmengard, Albus had become a shell. 

Their broken future constantly ripped his heart out of his chest, never stopping. 

He took his wand out of his robe sleeve and stared at it. He hated this wand. 

_ His wand. _

He’d never felt a connection to this wand. No emotions toward it other than immense hatred and loathing tinged with sordid regret. His apathy manifested in reality, refusing to stay put in his imagination. 

Images of Ariana as a child filled his mind and pain filled his heart. Albus would forever be haunted by the shrill screams and roars of anger from that night as it echoed in his ears. Flashes of reds, yellows, and finally green hit his sight behind closed eyes. It was the memory in his mind that lived on replay, constantly. The reflection of the man he needed most turned to him and smirked, his eyes glinted with devious intent. 

_ You killed her, only to raise him for slaughter. How many must die at your hands, Albus? You were always the good one, the one that wanted to help and make the world a better place. Now you're caught up in your own selfish plan.  _ Albus could almost hear Gellert’s cynical, amusement filled tone. 

Dumbledore brought his achy knees to his chest, buried his face into them as best he could. He covered his ears and let out a long, agonizing, pathetic wail. His frail body began to shake with the force of his cries. His throat burned and his chest spasmed as he struggled to calm himself. 

_ You deserve this. _

Gellert’s voice continued to taunt him as his brain gave a voice to his own self deprecating thoughts. 

Finally, when the sun began to shine through the window in the tower, the birds chirped outside and he could smell the beginnings of the breakfast the House Elves cooked. His cries quieted and he sat, silently and in deep thought. 

He made his way to the infirmary and went straight to Poppy’s office. After collecting a dose of Dreamless Sleep from her, he looked in the mirror in his own bedroom and stared at his reflection, finally alone. 

Red rimmed eyes, pale skin, dark circles, and eyes that no longer twinkled stared at him. He was a ghost of his former self but this is who he knew now. 

He changed into a new set of night robes and downed the potion as quick as he could to avoid the lingering taste of copper. He laid down and shut his eyes. Drifting off before he could think about it. 

**_____________________ **

**_June 24th, 1900_ **

**_____________________ **

Nineteen-year-old Albus Dumbledore laid with his head on his love’s chest. Gellert was talking animatedly about the world they would create. Albus loved listening to his heartbeat, his own form of music. Gellert’s arm tucked around him, granting him a blessed calming sensation. 

They were halfway through a box of Bertie Bott’s Beans when Albus heard the first shout. They ran out of Albus' bedroom to Aberforth standing in the middle of their living room, holding piles of parchments. His brother shouted about domination, Ariana being neglected and Albus being unfit. 

He wasn’t sure who cast the first spell. 

Hours later, Albus began planning the second funeral in a year. He sent Gellert away and ended what they had. Aberforth sat like a stone, unmoving and emotionless in his own room. Albus couldn't help but steel himself and his resolve. He would be better. He would raise Aberforth the way he should have focused on Ariana. He would make something of the Dumbledore name. 

He opened the box of Bertie Bott’s on his desk and took out one that looked to be Green Apple. He popped it into his mouth and instantly his face screwed up in disgust. He spit out the Vomit flavored bean and closed the box. Even Bertie Bott’s weren't the same now. 

He looked around at his disheveled house and frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together and he began to furiously write on the parchment in front of him. 

He would do it. He’d make things right and live to be better than any Dumbledore man before him. 

He would survive past the day the music died. 


End file.
